Everything
by Felgia Starr
Summary: The wrong kind of love.


_Written for Assignment #3 and Fornightly Event: Song Lyrics Challenge. Originally, I didn't have any pairings for this, but I just put Dramione because I love it the most._

 **Song Lyrics:** "Glamorous, but I'm deranged, yeah."

 **Subject** : Defense Against the Dark Arts

 **Task: **Write about someone using the Cruciatus Curse and why he/she does it. Please try to focus on their thoughts and emotions while casting the curse.

 **Word Count:** 813 (min 500)

 **Prompt Used:**

(word) Twilight

 **. . .**

"Mudblood."

She shivered in anticipation when he'd whispered it. It was truly a terrible word, a racial slur meant to make those with non-magic parents feel useless. He'd known the word since he was a child. He heard it from his father and his Death Eater allies, even from his mother and her trophy wife friends. His parents were both horrible people, it was no surprise that he turned out to be horrible as well. He was pretty sure that she hated the word, but not when _he_ said it. She loved him. _Everything_ about him, and everything he said. That was fine for him, he knew he was the closest thing to God. He deserved to be worshipped like so. And he worshipped her as well, he treated her like a Queen. Anything she asked for, she would get, as long as she kept loving him.

She squirmed in her position on the bed, looking like the muddy whore she was. He loved her like that. Dirty and beautiful. Filthy, but she was gorgeous. She was his weakness, his guilty pleasure. His parents told him that he shouldn't even _speak_ to her kind of people, let alone make love to them. But as he felt himself harden at the sight of her, his parents' lessons did not matter anymore.

They didn't deserve each other; that much was clear. He was too perfect for her, and she was too good for someone like him. No one knew about them. What they had was a dirty little secret. Maybe, that was part of the thrill. Maybe, that was the foundation of their whole relationship. All he knew was he loved her, and she loved him. That was all that matters, anyway. And if people thought that it was wrong, then he would slowly rip them apart.

" _Crucio_ ," he breathed hastily. He loved this part of their games. He wanted to hurt her, even though he would kill anyone else who tried to do so. He loved the way she begged for him to stop. Her screams made him feel like a King. Pain was their love, and it would only stop if he gets arrested. The first time he did this, she was in absolute ecstasy. He only wanted to give her the pleasure she wanted. He lived to serve her. It did not matter that he was breaking the law, it didn't matter that he could go to Azkaban tomorrow just by casting it – only _she_ mattered to him. He didn't care about anything else whenever he was with her. He wanted her to feel everything the curse had to offer – the trauma, the pain, the eventual high – _everything._

He took her in his arms as she screamed in a fucked up mixture of pain and pleasure. He knew she loved it. He knew that in the aftermath, she would thank him over and over again until she cried. He truly did feel like a God whenever he was with her. He slid home to help balance what she was feeling. He hissed in pain as she clawed his back with her witch-long fingernails, but he loved the hurt as well. She was too good to cast something as dark as the Cruciatus, but she loved hurting him with words and with her hands. She called him worthless plenty of times, she called him evil, vain, and selfish, she broke his nose more times than he could count, she left bruises before she left him, and he loved it. _Everything_ , he loved when it was about her.

She told him that he was beautiful as well – glamorous was the word she used. Glamorous, but deranged, she said. Looked like an angel, but a true devil inside – she described. He told her that she was more insane than him, and she answered that she was the kindest person she knew. That was why he believed she was mad anyway. She thought that she was good, even when she was not an angel at all.

She writhed in pleasure in his arms, bringing him to an end as well. They were one skin, one heart, one mind.

She rested her head on his shoulder, and he gripped her tighter than before. He did not want to let her go ever. She was his, and he was hers. No matter how wrong that sounded, how abusive it might seem to others – they loved each other. But could not be together, not forever at least. The world was against the both of them. Fate loathed them. Every God above and below created them to hate each other, but love followed no religion.

To the world, they were known as Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. The Death Eater boy, and the Brightest Witch of Her Age. They fought when the sun rose, but at twilight, they only _loved_.


End file.
